


Eavesdropping

by unfolded73



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Captain Cobra - Freeform, F/M, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 00:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8265254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfolded73/pseuds/unfolded73
Summary: Emma listens in.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for 6x03. Sorry about this, I tried to write something happy and I utterly failed.

She can almost forget that she's living under a death sentence. 

His clothes are in her closet and his toiletries are in her bathroom. (She's amused to see he's discovered modern hair products but not an electric beard trimmer, and she makes a mental note to buy him one.) He puts his books on the shelves, his ancient tomes pressed against the few dog-eared paperbacks she's bothered to hold on to. He proves to be a better cook than she would have given him credit for, especially considering his disability. 

Her parents bring over a housewarming gift and stay for dinner, her mother smiling and her father frowning (but deep down, probably also smiling) at their casual intimacy. Henry takes it all in stride, incorporating Killian into the family routine without complaint. If there's a faint flicker of worry behind his eyes sometimes, she doesn't let herself dwell on it. 

She wakes to the smell of coffee downstairs or to the sight of one of Killian’s eye-crinkly smiles or to the touch of his body pressed against her back. She falls asleep content, and often sated, the aftereffects of pleasure buzzing underneath her skin. 

They are happy and in love, and in those blissful first days after he moves in, she can almost forget. 

Emma wakes from a nap, sluggish and uncertain for a moment what day it is, what time, what anything. She mentally pieces her day back together, the very late night out looking for clues to where the Evil Queen and Hyde might be hiding, the bone-deep exhaustion that led Killian to suggest a nap when she almost dozed off in front of her computer this afternoon. She sits up from where she's collapsed on top of the neatly made bed (his doing), feeling her ponytail askew and pulling the rubber band out of it to shake her hair loose.

The house is silent, but as she pads down the stairs in her socks, she can make out the rumble of male voices coming from somewhere. It is only as she walks into the kitchen that she realizes she's hearing them out on the porch, their voices carrying through a window that's been opened to take advantage of the unseasonably warm fall day.

“So you know she's lying,” Emma hears Henry say, and she freezes.

Even the sound of Killian's sigh carries to her ears. “I know there's more to the tremors than stress, and that she's holding something back from me.”

“Have you confronted her?”

“I've learned that direct confrontation often makes her retreat even further behind her defenses, so best not. Give her time, Henry.”

“We may not _have_ time.” His voice rises, earnest and afraid. “If the Evil Queen—”

“If we all support Emma, we can defeat the Evil Queen. Together. It shouldn't fall to your mother to shoulder that burden alone.”

They are silent for a while. Emma feels a stab of guilt for eavesdropping, and considers making her presence known when Henry speaks again. “She's probably not the easiest person to be in a relationship with, huh?”

Killian laughs. “I love your mother, and that includes her walls and her difficulty trusting people and her tendency to leave her shoes everywhere. ”

“Do you think you'll marry her?”

Emma's heart stops.

“One thing at a time, lad. I've only just moved in.”

“Yeah, but you've thought about it.” She can hear the smug know-it-all tone in Henry's voice.

There is a pause. “I have.” Killian chuckles again. “It would probably terrify her to know how long I've thought about it, but yes, certainly since I returned from the Underworld—”

“You should ask her.”

“Do you offer unsolicited advice to your mothers this way?” His voice goes up an octave, and Emma almost laughs. 

“Sometimes.”

“It wouldn't bother you, then? If someday I marry your mother?”

“No. I mean, you've got the true love thing going, I figured it was inevitable.”

Emma closes her eyes, and for a moment she can feel the cold steel of that sword piercing her gut. _Inevitable._ It should be. A ring and a wedding and a Christmas tree in their shared home every winter, coffee cups and arguments and snuggling under a heavy quilt on the sofa to ward off the drafts. A happy ending. He deserves all of that, with her, and she can’t give it to him.

“For Emma’s sake, I don’t want to rush things, but I’ll keep your advice in mind,” Killian is responding. 

“I’m just saying, if you’re going to have a baby together, I think you should get married first,” Henry says, and Emma claps a hand over her mouth.

“I’m sorry, what… what are you talking about?” Killian’s voice travels up high again.

“Please, I saw the way Mom looked at you when you were holding Neal the other day.”

“That’s not… we’re not… wait, really? How was she looking at me?” She can see in her mind’s eye the way the tips of Killian’s ears are probably turning pink as he fumbles for a response.

“Like she was, I don’t know, mentally redecorating my video game room as a nursery or something.”

“The only person who calls that spare room a video game room is you, Henry. As to the other thing, I...I’m sure she wasn’t…” She hears a heavy sigh. “I don’t know the first thing about being a father.”

“Are you sure about that? Because from where I’m standing, it kinda seems like you’re a natural.”

Emma swipes at a tear as it escapes her eye and rolls down her cheek.

“Coming from you, that's high praise indeed,” Killian says, and she can tell that he's deeply affected by her son’s words. 

Henry’s not wrong: seeing Killian playing with Ashley's daughter Alexandra, and then more recently with her brother Neal, pulls at something primal in Emma. Even if she had her whole life ahead of her in which to have more children she's not sure she would, but seeing Killian acting as a stepfather to her son makes her heart swell. She can't help but imagine what he might be like as a father to their own children someday.

Emma shakes her head in frustration. That train of thought is pointless. If her vision was accurate, with Henry standing there looking much the same as he does now, then she won't live long enough to have any more babies, even if she wants to. If Killian is going to be a father, it isn't going to be with her. 

“Well,” Henry says, startling her out of her reverie, “I’ve got to go to the library and pick up some books for Belle.” She hears footsteps on the porch, and Emma rushes to make it look like she’s just now descending the stairs. 

“Hello, love,” Killian greets her with a kiss on the cheek. “Did you have a good rest?”

“Yeah.” She hugs him, her thoughts a whirlwind. He knows she's hiding something. He wants to marry her, has wanted to for a while. He may even want children.

Emma imagines what telling him her secret would look like. Most likely he wouldn't accept it; he'd give her a big hero speech about how he's going to fight for their happy ending. But a part of him would still wonder every day, _is today the day I watch my lover die?_ She can't make him live with that terrible knowledge. If the closest thing to a happy ending she can give him is a few idyllic weeks, then that's what she'll do. Surely that's what he would want: to live in ignorance of the pain that's coming for as long as he could. To believe in their happy ending for as long as he could. 

She pulls out of his embrace, takes his hand, and smiles. “Let's make dinner.”


End file.
